


"Toy" Is Interlac For "Complete"

by NoSirNotMeNotEver



Category: Impulse (Comics), The Flash (Comics), The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Diapers, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enemas (mentioned), Extremely Underage, Kidnapping, M/M, Mommy and Daddy Kink, Rape/Non-con - Freeform, Sock Garters, Stockholm Syndrome, Underage - Freeform, Watersports, emotional/psychological manipulation, etc etc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 09:07:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30069924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoSirNotMeNotEver/pseuds/NoSirNotMeNotEver
Summary: As in, Max makes Bart into the perfect boy.
Relationships: Bart Allen & Linda Park, Bart Allen & Linda Park & Wally West, Bart Allen & Wally West, Bart Allen/Max Crandall, Bart Allen/Max Mercury, Bart Allen/Max Mercury/White Lightning (DCU)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	"Toy" Is Interlac For "Complete"

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags before you read! Thanks :))))) hope you enjoy!

Bart was perfect.

Max had made sure of it.

It had taken many hours, holed up in the basement, Bart screaming and thrashing like an animal as Max preformed countless surgeries on him.

He didn't give any painkillers to his boy.

Not while he cut his Achilles Tendons, not when shoved electrodes on his boy's temples, electrocuting his brain until Bart would never be able to regain higher levels of speech and intelligence again, just whine and whimper and scream like an animal, and certainly not when he branded Bart's belly, right over where his womb would be if he were a female, with his name, and certainly not when he shocked Bart's bladder, too, until it stopped working as well.

A living toddler. 

God, was Bart beautiful  
.  
A perfect little boy for him to play with.

Hell, Bart listened to him even in public, where Max had come up with fake names and stories for them so that they wouldn't be found out.  
Max called himself, in public, Ivan, and called Bart Thad. And in order to cover up Bart's...improvements, Max came up with the story that Bart was his son and when "Thad" was very young, he had been in a terrible accident and was virtually catatonic, so he could never go outside or talk or do anything but stay cooped up in the house.

Max easily patted Bart's belly, the small boy staring up at him with wide eyes, before he suddenly beamed, making a small noise before he went still again.

They were sitting upstairs, in Bart's room, and Max was gently pressing small circles into Bart's belly, right on his brand, right on his bladder, the whole bit because he was so small, and he was trying to, yet again, assert his claim over him, prove to whatever was left of Bart's mind that he had total control over his body. 

He controlled when Bart ate, slept, could use the bathroom, everything. 

And he loved it. 

Loved every second of seeing just how beautiful Bart was. 

He rubbed a skinny side, pressing a kiss into Bart's now dyed-blonde curls, and Bart made a soft, curious noise, clumsy hand stretching   
forward before it twitched and fell limp. 

"That's it, that's a good boy."

Max praised, and Bart weakly hummed, making sad little noises that signaled he was antsy. 

Max patted over Bart's diaper, dipping his   
hand into it and palming Bart's little dick, and the small boy's hips mindlessly humped forward, drool trailing from pink bow lips.   
Max thoughtlessly wiped it away, and Bart's hips rabbited forward, the small boy limp and pliant. 

Max moved his other hand up, pinching Bart's nipples, and he licked his lips at the thought of piercing them, tugging on them and seeing what little squeals would come from his boy. 

Max was just about to actually jerk Bart off, but he froze at the sound of the doorbell, immediately picking Bart up and dressing the tiny boy in socks, plaid shorts, a t-shirt, and Bart's favorite knitted cardigan before he carried him downstairs, the knocks growing more insistent as Bart grabbed his shirt with small hands, the tiny boy whining at his pleasure being abruptly cut short, his little coos going soft after another few seconds. 

Max settled Bart on the floral-print couch, his heart racing as he made Bart sit up all pretty. 

"Now you be a good boy for Daddy, Thad."

It was like a flick had switched, the flick that Max had designed after weeks of conditioning. 

Immediately, Bart dropped into the couch, his eyes going half-lidded, what was left of his mind telling him to obey. 

It seemed like Bart was half-asleep, a living doll, and Max inwardly grinned before he finally went to the door.

"Hello– Oh! Miss White, hello!"

Miss White was a tall young woman, in about her early thirties, and had a shock of blonde hair. 

She also had a strange interest in Bart as well, fascinated in how something so full of life was virtually lifeless. 

Max also was sure that she was a pedophile and was waiting to molest Bart when he had his eyes turned. 

He thought about it for a few moments.

Inviting her into his and Bart's bed. 

No.

Not yet. 

Maybe later, she could be officially added.

Now, though...he could pretend that he didn't know about her taboo attraction to his boy. 

"Come on in. Be careful, Bart's on the couch, but I can move him if you want."

"No, that's...that's unnecessary, Ivan."

Bart was a very, very pretty boy indeed.

"Alright. Then you can go sit down in the living room, and I'll go make you some tomato juice."

"Okay. Thank you, Ivan."

Max nodded, and he headed into the kitchen, keeping an ear perked for Bart's sudden soft gasps and little whimpers. 

Forget it. 

He was going to fuck Bart right here, right now, in front of Miss White, and he was going to enjoy every second of it.

Max raced into the living room, and he grinned, Miss White freezing, her hand grabbing Bart through his shorts.

"Beautiful, isn't he?"

"H-Huh?"

"Thad. He's my favorite."

"What do you mean, Ivan?"

Max sat down, and he made a come-hither motion, Bart's eyes snapping over to him as the small boy suddenly reanimated himself.

It made Miss White gasp and shriek, but then Bart was crawling over to him, murmuring softly with the distinct "mmm" sound that was probably his name. 

"Good boy."

"You– You mean– he's alive?!"

"Of course he's alive."

"No, I mean– he's conscious?!"

"Yes. He's always been."

Max pet Bart's now-blonde hair, dyed so that no one would notice them as easily, and the small boy made a happy noise before trying to say his name, little hands clumsily patting at his ruined bladder in an attempt to get right over his brand, signaling as much as he could that he was still hard.

"Oh, I know. Daddy will fill you up soon, don't worry."

He could feel the horror rolling off of Miss White in waves.

"Don't worry; he's not my biological son. Or my son in general. Or related to me. Just a little toy I fixed up. Isn't he gorgeous? I preformed his operations myself."

"Operations?"

Miss White didn't seem scared, but rather intrigued. And a little hot under her collar.

Max didn't mind.

Miss White was a gorgeous woman, though she wasn't a twelve-year-old little boy.

"I cut his Achilles Tendons, and shocked his brain and branded him, right here."

Max patted over Bart's belly, having to reach down to do so, and Bart babbled uselessly, trying to talk again only to be stopped by his own embarrassment. 

"And, my favorite part, I electrocuted his bladder until it gave out on itself. You probably felt it through his pants, but he's going to be diaper-bound for as long as I have him in my grasp."

Max lifted Bart by the armpits and settled the small boy in his lap, little body squirming.

White stood, and she gently petted Bart's cheeks, the small boy making a happy noise. 

"That's...that's amazing. Did you have him under any drugs while you did this to him?"

"No. It's part of the brainwashing process. Bart wasn't exactly willing to–"

"Bart?"

Max swallowed.  
"Thad's real name. This isn't the first town we've had to skip, Miss White."

"Tell me about it."

Max pointedly chose not to dwell on her ambiguous reply, and he slid Bart's cardigan and shirt off, before taking off Bart's shorts, leaving him in just his diaper.

"Oh my god, he's so precious."

White soothed, spreading Bart's legs wider to get a good look at where the diaper bulged, and Max huffed a laugh, already reaching down the back of Bart's diaper to rub at Bart's hole, pleasantly surprised that he was still loose from his daily enema. 

Max gently untaped the diaper, and he carefully set it to the side, knowing that he had to chub Bart completely up, or the boy would be leaking urine the whole time.

While that would normally be cute, Max didn't want to scare off White too quickly.

Although she seemed aroused at what he had told her, how he had practically mutilated his boy, he was still terrified that she would tell someone and they would have to leave, yet again.

Max sunk a finger inside of Bart, his other hand gripping the slight boy's little dick tightly, and Bart weakly warbled, his hands clumsily patting his chest as he tried to convey what he wanted.

Almost instantly, White's hands came up to rub at Bart's nipples, and the small boy squealed, puffing out his chest and shaking a little. 

"C'mon, upstairs. I'm not having him ruin the couch again."

Max ordered, and he watched as White picked up Bart like he was a baby, the twelve-year-old easily going soft and pliant, looking every bit the toddler Max had forced him to become. 

Albeit, Bart was taller than a toddler, but he was so sweet, so innocent now that Max had shocked his old memories right out of him.

He truly seemed childlike, and was a curious   
creature, always making noise despite being unable to do anything but make a few soft bones of words.

Bart mostly said "mmm" for "Max," and that was all Max had been able to unravel.

Which he was perfectly fine with. 

Ignoring Bart and only doing what Max wanted was a sure way to cow him and put down any thoughts of resistance, as subconscious as they may be. 

Max led the way to Bart's room, and White settled the boy down on the table in the room, which was used to both tie Bart down to and to change his diaper on. 

He gently strapped down Bart's limbs, Bart making a soft little whine as he tried to stop Max from jostling his legs, but Max just shushed him, rubbing over the scars on the backs of Bart's legs.

"I know it hurts, Bub, but don't worry, Daddy's got you."

Max soothed, and he strapped Bart's legs down, the naked boy making a high-pitched noise of distress, his hands twitching like he wanted to knead his chest in the self-comforting habit he had picked up a few months ago. 

Max didn't know where he picked it up, but he assumed that it was because of the lack of maternal affection.

Again, Bart was basically a toddler now. 

It made sense, in some capacity.  
White reached up and fondled Bart's little cock, the small boy making a noise similar to one that a guinea pig would make, already pulling against the straps that held him down, and Max smoothed a hand down Bart's chest, calming the small boy down.

"No, no, Bart. Be a good boy for Mommy."

Max startled at that, and White flashed pearly teeth at him, grinning maniacally. 

"Good boy."

White murmured when Bart calmed down, big yellow eyes filling with tears from all the stimulation around his little cock.

"Mmm, Mmm! Nngh! Ah, ah! Mmm, Mmm!"

Again and again, Bart tried to whine his name, humping up as much as he could into White's fist, and Max pressed a kiss to Bart's neck, already patting Bart's belly, dipping his fingers into his boy's navel and swirling around in there, making Bart gasp weakly.

"Mmm, Mmm, puh– puh–"

Max watched as White hastily stripped off her pants, and then she was riding Bart, dwarfing the tiny boy beneath her wide hips. 

"That's– that's a good boy, such a– such a good boy for Mommy and Daddy."

Max leaned up, and he dragged her in for a kiss, Bart crying uselessly from too much stimulation of his youthful cock. 

And then Bart's nose was scrunching up, his eyes squeezing shut as his knees trembled, and then Bart was sobbing as he suddenly came, unused to the perfect heat of a woman's pussy.

And yet, White didn't stop, her hips rolling until she came as well, her hands tugging at Bart's chest. 

Max furiously jerked himself off until he came right on Bart's slack face, yellow eyes empty and yet full of hunger, and then Miss White was jerking, pulling herself off of Bart so fast that the boy cried out. 

"What– oh!"

Max laughed as Bart wet a little, probably inside of White, and the small boy weakly snuffled, his hands uselessly twisting in their binds. 

"I know, I know. Such a good boy. But you can't wet into Mommy, okay?"

Max knew that Bart wouldn't be able to reply, but still the boy mewled, his little cock dripping with both urine and semen.

Max leaned down and licked it up, and then he patted Bart's belly, White watching them curiously.

"C'mon, onto Daddy's cock, just like that."

Max murmured, and he helped Bart onto his cock, the bound boy's eyes squeezing shut as he took him, little body shaking.

"It's okay, you can wet all you want on Daddy's cock. Good boy, Bart. Good boy."

It took only three months for Max to lose Bart.

White had gotten too scared when Max had started performing even more operations on Bart, trying to keep him silent and vulnerable, and then the police were involved.

Max didn't even have enough time to take Bart and run, because White had claimed she was going out to the store and had promptly skipped town, leaving Max to fend for himself and Bart. 

"C'mon, c'mon."

Max chanted, hooking up electrodes to both his and Bart's body, ready to fry their brains as the police pounded on the basement door, and Max raced to the wires, Bart limply lying in the bed Max had dragged down.

Bart would be the first to go, and then Max would kill himself. 

It was simple.

And yet, they were almost running out of time, Max sliding into the bed and wrapping Bart up in his arms, the tiny boy trembling in terror at the loud noises.

"I know, Bub; I know. But don't worry, it'll be over soon, alright? Just close your eyes and go to sleep."

Max flicked Bart's switch, and Bart seemed to freeze, his whole body going ramrod straight, before he suddenly went limp.

Dead.

Max looked back at the basement door, the metal finally starting to cave in, and then he flicked his own switch, darkness rushing over him.

No one would ever know what had happened to Bart.

"He...he's awake."

Bub's eyes fluttered open, and he dazedly blinked a few times before he weakly looked around, strange people in strange white coats and strange blue scrubs looking down at him.

Subconsciously, he started to knead his chest, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth.

"I guess the surgeries went very well."

"He seems much more aware than he did last time he was awake."

Bub ignored the strange people, and he tried to sit up, knowing that Daddy would be mad at him for sleeping in. 

"Hey, hey, lay down. Can someone get Mr. West?!"

West.

Bub...Bub knew that name. 

Somehow.

One of Daddy's friends? One of Mommy's?

He couldn't remember. 

The door opened, and then a tall redhead was racing to him, embracing him tightly.

Bub couldn't help but flinch, but then he relaxed into it, his legs automatically spreading. 

A choked sob came from West, and Bub whimpered, his knees knocking together as he tried to not completely void himself out of fear.

"It's okay, Bart. It's alright. I'm so, so sorry. I'm so sorry."

Bub weakly panicked, looking around for Daddy, but West was holding him too tightly for him to have a proper look.

He needed to find Daddy! 

Where was Daddy?!

He couldn't see him, or hear him, or touch him, and he was trembling violently, whimpers leaving his lips. 

Without Daddy, the thoughts would come back.

And when they came back, Daddy got angry and shocked him so badly that they went away again.

Was Daddy trying to hurt him?  
Had he been bad?

The thought petrified him, stopping his weak   
little shakes, and suddenly, West let go of him.

"Hey, hey, Bart, it's okay. You're safe now. Crandall will never touch you again, okay? He's gone now; it's okay."

Bub's heart skipped a beat in the worst way possible, his eyes as wide as moons at the announcement of never seeing Daddy again, and just like that, he voided out of fear, just like Daddy liked.

Maybe if he wetted enough, Daddy would come back?

It was a good thing he was wearing a diaper to absorb his pee. 

West froze, and Bub suddenly had the feeling that he had done something wrong.  
It made him cower. 

"Mr. West, I...I think you need to leave. He's very distressed, and we have to check on him."

West's eyes were still boring into his, and Bub shivered, tears dripping from his cheeks as he held himself tightly, wishing that Daddy was here to protect him. 

"Yeah, of– of course."

And then West finally left, leaving him in the same room as the rest of the strange people in their white coats and blue scrubs. 

Finally, a young woman stepped forward, hesitating.

"Do– do you need a new diaper?"

Bub blinked, and then he flinched back so hard that he hit the headboard, making him shy even further, when she took another step closer. 

He scrambled away as much as he could, heart thumping and adrenaline pumping, as they looked at each other before stepping forward.

He knew that look. 

They were going to tie him down and hurt him.

And it wouldn't be like how Daddy did it, because Daddy hurt him because he loved him and wanted to make him better.

These people were just going to hurt him though, without any love. 

It made him cry harder as he was gently pressed against the bed, all of them too gentle and soft, and he screamed as much as he could, knowing that begging in soft noises wouldn't mean anything to them.

"Puh– puh– please! PLEASE!"

He barely had any time to dwell over how he was able to speak again, for the first time in months, and he screamed again, begging as loudly as he could as his hospital gown was lifted up and his diaper was changed.

It was terrible and humiliating and he just wanted Daddy.

"Daddy!"

He tried, and he was met with silence. 

No, no! Daddy couldn't be gone, he couldn't be!

Bub needed him, wanted his Daddy so much it hurt. 

His diaper was taken off, his legs getting pulled apart forcefully but gently, and then he was cleaned before a new one was grabbed, gloved fingers poking around his hole to test the damage before he voided his bladder again due to fear.

He had just wetted in front of all these strange people.

It made him cry harder, piss staining him and the bed, and he weakly whimpered, tears streaming down his ruddy cheeks as he was cleaned off again. 

"Shh, Shh. It's alright."

The new diaper was put on, and Bub managed to hold it in better this time, trembling in fright as these strange people fixed his hospital gown.

It felt like the very first days with Daddy, when he had been embarrassed to wet in front of him, and he had thought that he was over these feelings of embarrassment.

Evidently, he was not.

He had spent another few days in the hell of a hospital, and during that time, he had mostly slept, West —or Wally, as he insisted he call him— watching him the whole time.

Bub had managed to regain his speech completely, though he mostly kept quiet.

Daddy liked him quiet, and if he ever wanted Daddy to come back, then he had to be good. 

The doctors —the strange people in the coats and scrubs— tried to help him regain control of his bladder, and it was humiliating and made him want to cry as he was "helped," though he was certain that two of the doctors were like Daddy, that they wanted to watch him cry and wet himself. 

He hated it.

He only wanted Daddy.

Sometimes he cried, and Wally would tell him that he was okay, that he was safe, but he didn't care if he was okay or safe.

He wanted Daddy and Mommy. 

He wanted to be able to crawl on the carpeted floor and for Daddy to feed him soup and to drink Mommy and Daddy's special milk. 

He wanted to be tied down and to take whatever Daddy gave him, wanted to be spanked when he did something naughty, wanted to be petted by Daddy.

He missed Daddy so strongly that it had made him vomit a few times, anxiety coursing through his body. 

But then Wally had taken him home, where this nice lady named Linda was that always tried to make him feel better. 

He still wore diapers, though he had regained enough motor control to change them himself, so he had been put in pull-ups, his body finally free to heal without constant electroshock therapy to keep him...dumb.

He played with the word in his mind as he stumbled up from bed, feeling strangely cold without Daddy to warm him up.

Wally and Linda had argued yesterday after Bub had accidentally called them Daddy and Mommy, and Wally had called him "dumb."  
Bub didn't know how he felt about the word, though past experience told him to hate that word. 

That the word was bad, that he was dumb.   
At least, to Wally.

Daddy had never called him dumb. 

He missed Daddy so much.

He limped his way out of his room, his cut Achilles Tendons begging him to crawl across the floor instead of unsteadily stagger, but Wally always looked so disgusted whenever he prostrated himself in such a way. 

He didn't understand.

Wally and Linda didn't want him to act how Daddy would want him to act at all, but he swallowed it down.

If Wally and Linda were his new Daddy and Mommy, he would have to listen to them and walk instead of crawl, despite how much it hurt. 

It should've scared him that he couldn't walk, but he didn't mind.

Besides, the– the doctors said he would heal.

He didn't want that.

He didn't want to heal, didn't want to get better, didn't want to remember, didn't want the thoughts!

He wanted Daddy but Daddy was gone!

Bub crumpled to the floor, right then and there, unable to hold himself up at the loss.   
Linda came running in, and he weakly yelped as he was forced up to his feet. 

"Okay, okay. That's enough for now. I...I think it's time for some down time, okay?"

Bub brightened, and he shivered happily as Linda set him down, making him tremble with excitement.

Bub's one doctor, the one that asked him crazy questions, like how he felt and what Daddy did to him, had told Linda and Wally that every so often, they had to schedule time in which he could act like he used to in order to better help him adjust. 

He didn't want to adjust, but he loved down time, so he put his feelings aside. 

It had become something of a reward for trying to follow Linda and Wally's rules. 

It was so nice, too. 

He was able to beg and act as he normally did, though, sadly, he wasn't allowed to take cock or cunt. 

But it was okay; he didn't need that. 

"C'mon, Bart. Let's go get Wally to take care of you. I have work, so I can't stay, but Wally's off so he'll stay with you."

Bub whimpered, but he stayed still while Linda got Wally before she left, the both of them staring at each other as she drove away from the house before the tension broke.

"Okay, Bart. I'll put on a movie for us, okay? We can just go sit and watch that."

Wally soothed, and Bub let Wally pick him up and carry him to the couch, settling him on his lap, and Bub let his eyes go half-lidded with contentment. 

He mindlessly relaxed, allowing his thoughts to quiet until he felt weightless, and he slumped forward, barely watching the movie as his eyes drooped more and more. 

It seemed like he was always tired, now.

So, so tired.

But Wally said it was because he was getting better, though Bub didn't want to get better.  
He just wanted Daddy.

The news accidentally met his ears during down time, when Wally was petting his hair, his head in his cousin's lap, and Linda had burst through, her hands shaking.

"Keep Bart in the room. Wally, I– I have to tell you something important."

"Linda, it's down time–"

"I know. But this is important."

Bart understood what that meant.

That meant that something bad with Daddy  
—Max— had happened.

Bart knew that something bad had definitely happened.

As the months went on, he was able to completely walk normally again, and now, he had full bladder control, his mind healing as well until he realized that he had a very bad case of Stockholm Syndrome.

But despite the fact that he knew Max was horrible, that what he had done to him was disgusting, he still found himself weakly hoping for Max to come back for him.

Maybe it was because Wally seemed to only like him when he was down, aka, silent and still, or maybe it was because Linda never had time for him, but it seemed like he didn't belong.

Besides, he knew that Linda was going to be pregnant soon.

Who wanted to take care of a traumatized preteen that only recently got out of diapers?

"Fine. Bart, stay here?"

"M'kay."

His voice came out hesitantly, his speech slurred like it used to when he was rediscovering English, and Wally gently settled him back on the couch before going to talk to Linda.

Bart shivered, and he pricked his ears, wincing as he heard Linda and Wally whisper-shouting.   
Something about Max...Max leaving.  
Max leaving?

No, no, not leaving.

Escaping. 

The thought made him sick while a part of himself that he had thought he had buried deep rejoiced. 

He knew that Max hadn't died in their shared electrocution, just like he hadn't.

Max had somehow calculated the voltage and they were sent into comas rather than death.

But that meant that Daddy– Daddy was coming back for him. 

It made him tremble in excitement and terror at the same time, and he weakly got to his feet, trying not to stumble how he used to before he healed. 

Wally came back into the room, and Bart licked his lips, his mouth dry. 

"C'mon, Bart. Let's go to sleep, okay? Take a little nap."

"Okay, Wally."

Bart's eyes snapped open, and he weakly choked as he saw Max standing before him, making him tremble weakly as he tried to look away.

"Hey, hey. None of that, Bub. You know better than to try to run on legs that don't work."

A whimper left his throat, but he didn't dare move, his training overriding instinct in a way that made him dizzy. 

"It's okay, Bub. Just wet for Daddy, and all will be okay."

And Bart screamed.


End file.
